


My Condition's My Ambition

by FoxCollector



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Puzzle Box Izaya, Rimming, Shizaya - Freeform, awkward couch sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 12:43:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11555442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxCollector/pseuds/FoxCollector
Summary: Shizuo can’t exactly remember a shift in thinking, doesn’t think there was a point when he stopped imagining the crack of Izaya’s jaw beneath his fist and started imagining the open invitation of his thighs instead. He likes to think of both of these things really, because Izaya is still awful, that hasn’t changed. Maybe it’s something in him that’s changed.





	My Condition's My Ambition

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, this pairing. I do so love it. I just have to get off my butt and write more for them. 
> 
> Title comes from Caught A Ghost's song "Like No One", which was in my head for most of the writing. For some reason.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, and if you do, please drop me a comment!
> 
> Read, enjoy, review!

Shizuo doesn’t know how it started. Well, he supposes he knows how, with lips and teeth clashing in a way that is almost more pain than pleasure, but he doesn’t know why. He can’t exactly remember a shift in thinking, doesn’t think there was a point when he stopped imagining the crack of Izaya’s jaw beneath his fist and started imagining the open invitation of his thighs instead. He likes to think of both of these things really, because Izaya is still awful, that hasn’t changed. Maybe it’s something in him that’s changed. He doesn’t like to think about it too much.

Izaya is flush against him, arching off the wall behind him to push closer. His smile is a taunt, sharp like a knife, daring Shizuo to take it further. He’s never been one to refuse a challenge. He licks his way into Izaya’s mouth, and Izaya makes a breathy noise before he bites down on Shizuo’s tongue. Shizuo digs his fingers into bony hips in response, pulling back enough to glare at Izaya, his other hand coming up to wipe at his mouth. He almost expects it to come away bloody, is almost surprised when it doesn’t.

Izaya is grinning at him, his smile has that edge of mania, and Shizuo feels the familiar spark of anger jolt down his spine. He wants to smash his fist into Izaya’s face as much as he wants to slam his cock into Izaya’s ass. It’s not like he can’t have it both ways.

“What’s wrong, Shizu-chan?” Izaya purrs.

Shizuo makes a noise that sounds more like a growl than anything else, “Shut the hell up.”

“Or what?” Izaya says. He grinds himself against Shizuo, sparking arousal up Shizuo’s spine, reminding him why he got into this situation. “Will you make me?”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Shizuo fires back, thinks maybe he’s hit something when Izaya’s eyes widen just a touch more.

Izaya might be shameless in his lust, but he hates it when Shizuo can see through him. His eyelids lower again, teasing seduction that is as pointless as it always is: Shizuo’s already been seduced.

Shizuo slides a hand up the front of his shirt, rubbing roughly over pert nipples in the way he knows Izaya likes. Izaya takes a fistful of his hair, and pulls hard, baring his teeth before moving in for a kiss that’s more of a bite. It doesn’t matter anyway. His other hand moves between them to palm at the front of Shizuo’s pants, and hell, Shizuo is done with this. He shoves Izaya’s jacket off, knocking the other’s hands off of him and slides his shirt up and over his head. Izaya is pulling him back in again almost immediately, gripping his shoulders hard, digging in with his nails and rubbing against him in a slide that makes Shizuo feel dizzy.

“We’re not really going to do this here, are we?” Izaya asks. “There’s a perfectly good bed down the hall. There’s a perfectly good couch right there.”

Izaya motions around the room, and Shizuo thinks about all the places they could be having sex, but all of that involves moving and he really doesn’t want to. He informs Izaya of this with a bite to his collarbone so hard he breaks the skin, then runs his tongue over the mark.

“Shizu-chan, that’s going to be hard to cover up,” Izaya says. He sounds a little displeased, but there’s heat under his words, like being marked is a thrill in and of itself.

“Don’t care,” Shizuo tells him. “And what’s wrong with the wall?”

“We’re not animals,” Izaya says. “Well, I’m not.”

“Fuck you,” Shizuo says against his collarbone, fingers bruising against Izaya’s ribs.

“You could,” Izaya says.

Shizuo is fairly certain that the moment he lets go of Izaya, the other will make a run for it – not to escape, just to get his hands on the knife that’s lying across the room from them. Izaya will use any opportunity to play rough. He’d match Shizuo cut for bruise given the chance, and slide the knife into Shizuo’s hands to give it back two-fold. Shizuo doesn’t really want that. Not today.

Today he wants honesty. The kind of honesty he only ever gets right when Izaya falls apart. It never lasts, though, Izaya’s masks are always in place as soon as he catches his breath. But it’s always worth it.

He pulls back to meet Izaya’s gaze; his chin tilted up, the light catches off his eyes and they look so red. There’s something behind his eyes that Shizuo can’t read. His own mouth twists into a frown. Izaya laughs at him.

“Well?” Izaya finally says. “Aren’t you going to?”

It takes Shizuo entirely too long to connect Izaya’s words to his previous ones. He tries to think of something to say in response. He wants to get under Izaya’s skin, but he’s not great with words. ‘No’ would be a lie, he considers telling Izaya to beg for it, but…well, that’ll turn it back into a fight and he just wants the heat and satisfaction of sex.

Sex with Izaya is a fight though, and he can never win with words, so he uses his hands, because he’s always been better with those.

He moves right for Izaya’s fly, feeling the way Izaya’s hands tense impossibly more on his shoulders, and slides jeans over thin hips. He isn’t surprised to find that Izaya isn’t wearing anything underneath, he doesn’t particularly care, it only makes it easier for him.

“Desperate, are we?” Izaya taunts. He hikes a leg around Shizuo’s hips. “Why don’t we take this somewhere else?”

“No,” Shizuo says.

Izaya frowns at him, something like irritation creasing his brow before he shrugs. “Such a beast.”

Shizuo’s hands have the whole expanse of Izaya’s skin to mark with bruises, and he takes advantage, feeling Izaya push against him, flushed and hard. He leans in to push their mouths together again.

Izaya’s fingers start in on his buttons, open his vest and get halfway down his shirt when Shizuo stops him by pinning his wrists to the wall behind him and kissing him hard.

“That’s hardly fair,” Izaya says when they break apart.

“Deal with it,” Shizuo tells him, then, “turn around.”

“No foreplay, then?” Izaya asks, eyes dark with something Shizuo thinks is like need.

Shizuo grunts in response.

Izaya huffs, but he does as he’s told when Shizuo loosens the hold on his wrists.

“There’s lube in my jacket pocket,” Izaya tells him. He props himself against the wall, bending slightly to grind his ass against Shizuo’s slacks.

Shizuo looks at the crumpled heap next to the couch, and then back at Izaya, who is eying him over his shoulder. Of course, he’d have to let go to go and get it, and he’d be hard pressed to get Izaya in the same position again so easily.

“Damn it,” Shizuo grunts. He fixes his hands on Izaya’s hips and tugs him towards himself, walking them backwards.

Izaya laughs at him. “Really, now?”

He slides a hand over Izaya’s erection and the laugh chokes off into a moan, an unstudied reaction that burns at the base of Shizuo’s spine. He shoves Izaya so that he’s leaning against the back of the couch, holds him in place with one hand while he crouches down to go through Izaya’s pockets.

“Left pocket,” Izaya says, then, “outside pocket, not inside.”

“You have too many damn pockets,” Shizuo growls in frustration. His fingers slide over useless things until he finally finds what he wants.

“They’re useful,” Izaya says with a shrug.

Shizuo pops open the cap of the small bottle one-handed – half empty, he notes – and tries to smear it on his fingers. Izaya is watching him, arms settled on the couch, body tensed on expectation while he feigns relaxation. Shizuo ends up bracing against Izaya with his elbow, so he can use both hands. It might have been easier if he had just stood up, he reflects, but shrugs the thought off. He drops the bottle back onto Izaya’s jacket, doesn’t miss the annoyance flickering across Izaya’s face while he smears his fingers along Izaya’s hip to his ass.

“So are we using the couch, then?” Izaya asks, breath hitching slightly when Shizuo rubs his thumb over his entrance.

“You’re the one who wanted to move,” Shizuo says. He won’t deny that he likes the view from down here.

“This wasn’t quite what I had in mind,” Izaya says. “I guess I should have known better than to expect anything more from a beast like you.”

Izaya is goading him on, all but asking for Shizuo to be rough with him, to hurt him. He knows what Izaya likes, sometimes gets off on giving it to him, occasionally gets off on denying him the edge of pain that he craves. He’ll be rough enough today, he supposes, enough to pull honesty into Izaya’s face, enough to crack open Izaya’s walls and see inside, enough to satisfy both of them. He thinks there might be a combination of pleasure and pain enough to break Izaya open so wide he can’t ever pull himself shut again, but he can’t begin to guess at it, just works with what he knows.

Izaya makes a sound of displeasure, and he realizes he’s ignored him, and Izaya definitely dislikes that. He makes up for it by sliding one finger in, he does it a little faster than he should, and Izaya shudders in response.

He doesn’t wait long before he slides it in further, then draws it out to slide back in. Izaya composes himself in the meantime.

“Are you planning on staying down there?” he asks Shizuo.

It’s a valid question. Shizuo hasn’t thought that far ahead yet.

“View’s nice,” Shizuo says with a shrug.

He can’t read the look Izaya gives him in response. He likes to think he can read Izaya better than anyone else. He probably can. But when it comes to reading Izaya’s feelings, not his wants, not what he likes, but what he really feels beneath the cutting laughter and the false smiles and the threat of his eyes…Shizuo is lost. It’s why he likes the fucked open honesty he can pull from Izaya when he does things right. When he doesn’t, Izaya barely shows him anything, his mask barely shifts. It’s a fine line, and he hates floundering around looking for it.

He slides in a second finger, too soon, feels Izaya clench around it, hot and tight and wanting. He works his fingers in and out, slowly, but rough, trying to draw a reaction from Izaya, he gets one when he scissors his fingers – Izaya’s watchful eyes slide shut, his head tipping back. Shizuo rubs his fingers along, knows where to touch to make Izaya clench and inhale sharply, and so he does, and Izaya does.

“Aren’t you ready yet?” Izaya asks him. Eyes sliding open to meet Shizuo’s gaze. Izaya’s eyes are heavily lidded, pupils blown wide in the shadows of his own office.

“Nope,” Shizuo says. He slides one hand to pull at Izaya’s cheeks, spreading him open and watching his fingers as they slide in.

When he looks back up, Izaya is still watching him, he thinks there might be a faint flush along Izaya’s cheeks and he thrusts his fingers in roughly in response. Izaya’s hips jerk at the motion, his jaw clenching. He’s biting back whatever it is he wants to say.

He turns his attention back to Izaya’s ass, almost misses the way Izaya’s eyes widen when he leans in and runs his tongue alongside his fingers. Izaya’s hips twitch, pushing back at his fingers, and when Shizuo sneaks another glance he’d swear Izaya looked mildly offended, though he can’t be certain. He does it again, then slides his tongue in alongside his fingers. It’s a bit uncomfortable for the way his hand pushes against his face, but it’s worth for the way Izaya blurts a curse.

“Just do it already,” Izaya says. He sounds annoyed and Shizuo knows he’s getting to him.

He slides his fingers in and then out, moving his tongue as much as he can, manages to use the edge of his teeth and Izaya makes an embarrassingly high noise that sounds like a keen. Good.

Shizuo stands up, knees cracking and legs aching a bit. He turns Izaya around so that they’re facing each other, and Izaya automatically shifts himself so he’s sitting on the edge on the couch. There’s anticipation tight in his eyes, and something like an invitation in the curve of his smile. They hold gazes for a moment before Shizuo pulls away to open his pants, Izaya’s hands coming in to help him tug the zipper down and slide his underwear just out of the way. He’s beyond painfully hard and Izaya’s fingers grip him teasingly before he bats Izaya’s hands out of the way so he can run slick hands up and down himself. It isn’t quite enough. Just like two fingers wasn’t really enough. Which means it’s perfect.

He lines himself up, Izaya shifting the spread of his thighs slightly, arms locking around Shizuo’s shoulders.

There’s a breath where he lets the tension build, then he’s pushing in, feeling the give of Izaya’s body around him as he tries to relax. It’s tight, so tight, and it’s perfect.

This is so much better than fighting all the time.

Izaya huffs a laugh as though he’s heard what Shizuo is thinking.

He pushes slowly, settles in all the way after what feels like an eternity, and he waits for a moment. He can feel Izaya around him, hot and twitching, willing himself to relax and relishing in the burn of being stretched.

This is the only time he really knows Izaya. The only time Izaya shows him anything other than smiles that don’t reach his eyes and glares that carry the threat of something heavier than Shizuo can judge.

“Move,” Izaya tells him.

It’s probably too soon, but he knows Izaya likes it better that way. So he does.

He pulls out slowly, so slowly, wet and slick and absolutely perfect, and then slams in hard, forcing the couch back a bit. Izaya digs his nails in, pressing hard against Shizuo’s shirt. He pulls himself up enough to press his mouth to Shizuo’s in an open-mouthed kiss that is filthy by any standards.

“Come on, Shizu-chan, can’t you do anything right?” He says it against Shizuo’s mouth, eyes boring into his.

It’s another challenge. Really, doesn’t Izaya know any better?

He does it again, tries to change his angle as he moves, sliding in and out of tight heat. Izaya pants against his mouth, eyes sharp but glazing over.

His fingers clench on Izaya’s hips, trying to pull the other impossibly closer. He can feel the heat of Izaya’s erection against his stomach, against his shirt, and he should probably not let Izaya ruin another shirt, although he supposed it’s mildly better than bloodstains.

He fucks in harder, manages to hit at the right angle, and Izaya tightens around him. “Fuck!” Izaya blurts. He locks his legs around Shizuo’s waist.

He leans in so his mouth is against Shizuo’s ear. “Touch me,” he says, and it sounds like poison.

Shizuo moves a hand from one of Izaya’s hips, sees the red marks on pale skin and knows it’ll bruise, knows Izaya wears marks like that like it’s something to be proud of. His hand slides up Izaya’s chest, pinches a nipple just to hear Izaya almost gasp. He’s hit then with an idea. He plants his hand firmly in the center of Izaya’s chest, and pushes.

“What –” Izaya starts, but Shizuo pushes harder and Izaya seems to decide it’s not worth it to cling to Shizuo’s shoulders, lets himself fall so he’s almost upside down, head resting on the cushion below, arms bracing slightly, and all the rest of him on display for Shizuo. The awkward angle of his body unlocks his legs from around Shizuo’s waist, and Shizuo ends up holding one thigh just to keep Izaya from falling.

“I don’t think you thought this through,” Izaya says, but he sounds a bit breathless.

Shizuo grunts, and pushes in harder.

“I think I liked the wall better,” Izaya says.

Shizuo growls, hauls Izaya back up. There’s a sick satisfaction in the way Izaya’s hands scrabble for purchase against his shoulders.

“Do you ever shut up?” Shizuo asks.

The grin that spreads across Izaya’s face is vaguely manic, makes Shizuo think of fractured stained-glass windows – a complete picture in pieces.

“No,” Izaya says. “But you’re welcome to try and make me.”

He fits his hands under Izaya’s ass, lifts him up and away from the back of the couch, careful to keep himself mostly buried in tight heat. Izaya wraps his legs around his waist almost instantly, hands threading to pull at his hair.

“I should fuck you so hard you can’t sit tomorrow,” Shizuo tells him. He’s losing track of himself a bit, always gets worked up by Izaya’s prodding.

“You should,” Izaya agrees.

Shizuo walks them around the side of the couch, lowers Izaya down so he’s lying on his back, cock sliding out as he moves them around. He settles between Izaya’s thighs, hoists them over his shoulders so he has better access.

“Do it,” Izaya tells him.

Shizuo pushes back in, picking up a rhythm in the stuttering of Izaya’s breaths.

Izaya pulls at his hair again, back arching slightly.

“Touch me,” he echoes his plea from earlier, and Shizuo obliges him, sliding his hand over Izaya’s straining erection if only to see the way his mouth falls open.

Izaya brings one hand back to cast his arm over his face, hiding him from view. Shizuo growls and grabs his arm, pinning it above his head by the wrist.

“Shizu-” Izaya sounds almost like he wants to scold him, but he never makes it past that first bit, voice skidding high when Shizuo manages to hit that spot that makes him see stars.

For a second, there’s nothing but naked pleasure on Izaya’s face, then he’s working to pull something in place.

Shizuo doesn’t know why it’s so important to him, to hide himself. He thinks they should both be past trying to maintain any kind of dignity at this point. He picks up his pace, set on unlocking Izaya like some kind of puzzle box.

“Hah,” Izaya breathes, and Shizuo wonders if he’s going to start laughing. “Hate it when…when Shizu-chan gets like this…”

“Like what?” He growls. He doesn’t think he’s doing anything differently…maybe he’s a bit less rough, but wasn’t it Izaya who said they should keep things interesting?

“There are some things…” he breaks off to moan when Shizuo thumbs the head of his leaking erection. He takes a second to compose himself before he keeps going, “better left unknown…for now…”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Shizuo asks. He shoves in a bit rougher, bending down so Izaya is folded almost in half.

“Tch,” Izaya throws his head back, and it looks like Shizuo might have managed to shut him up after all. His eyes are clenched shut, cheeks flushed and every part of him is tense. He’s right on the edge.

“Izaya,” Shizuo slows down, despite everything in him telling him to push harder, faster, finish it, watch Izaya come apart beneath him.

“Just…leave it…let me…” Izaya says, and it’s the closest he’s come to begging.

“Then come,” Shizuo says, and thrusts in for good measure.

Izaya does come. He cries out something too broken to try and piece into the shape of a word, and all of his walls are down. He’s exposed in every sense of the word now. There’s pleasure sure, satisfaction, something that looks like guilt…maybe regret? Shame? And anger… But at least Shizuo can see all of it. And that, with the way Izaya clenches down hard around him has him coming hard inside Izaya. He remembers belatedly that Izaya doesn’t like it when he does that without asking, but hey, he wasn’t complaining, so maybe he was okay with it.

He slumps forward, against the resistance of Izaya’s legs, watches Izaya pull his mask back together. It’s taking a little longer than usual, and he takes some satisfaction in that. Eventually, Izaya shoves at him.

“Move it,” he tells Shizuo in no uncertain terms.

So Shizuo does, mostly. He retreats to sit on the couch, Izaya’s legs draped over his lap when the other slumps down.

He listens to the sounds of both of their breathing growing steadier, and it’s…awkward. This is Izaya’s apartment. He should be halfway out the door by now while Izaya spits insults on his way to the shower. Instead, he grips one of Izaya’s feet almost thoughtfully, ignoring the man’s attempts to shake his hold.

“What was that about?” Shizuo asks when the silence has stretched too long.

“What was what?” Izaya drawls it in such a way that Shizuo knows he knows what he’s talking about.

“You know.” Shizuo gestures vaguely, as though he can shape either Izaya’s earlier words or his lack of understanding of them with his hands.

“Nothing,” Izaya says.

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Shizuo says. He’s glaring accusatively at Izaya’s foot. “Sounded like something maybe important.”

“Sounded like none of your business,” Izaya quips back. “I told you to leave it.”

“Then why would you say it?” Shizuo asks. He’s growing frustrated, he looks up to fix Izaya with a glare and finds that the other is pointedly not looking at him.

“It’s not important,” Izaya says. “It just…”

Slipped out. Well.

That doesn’t help Shizuo at all. Aside from the knowledge that Izaya made a mistake. A revealing mistake, perhaps. One that if Shizuo probes enough, perhaps it will be the thread that unravels Izaya.

“Whatever,” Shizuo says. And he’s willing to drop it for now, because he knows he made another crack in Izaya’s walls.

He leaves then, and he doesn’t miss the way Izaya almost watches him go.

Maybe next time.

 


End file.
